


Of Man's Desiring

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-28
Updated: 2006-03-28
Packaged: 2019-02-02 02:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: There are first loves and last loves.





	Of Man's Desiring

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

Daniel awakes slowly, driftingly, the dark room almost eerily aglow from the reflected light of the snowstorm outside that slides in around the edges of the blinds. While not all that fond of snow, still a desert boy at heart, he has to admit there is something soothing about the soft, staticky hush of heavy snow and pre-dawn. He stretches cautiously, legs tightening and loosening, shoulders pressing down into the mattress, being careful not to dislodge the hand clasped loosely over his thigh. He turns his head slightly, smiles at the silver-gilt glint of Jack's sleeping head, the open-mouthed breathing, the spit that gathers in the corner of his mouth.

He never expected this.

But then, very little in his life has been expected, so why should this be anything different? His last love, Sha'ure had been a surprise to say the least. How completely he'd come to love her had startled even him, at least a little.

But he had come to love her, all the same. Love the warm smell under her arms, in the groove where thigh met hip, the taste of firesmoke in her hair. Love the way her eyes lit up when they found a point of commonality and understanding, a place where their worlds bridged. Love how she laughed behind her headscarf when he said something foolish. He had thought to teach her, but instead he became the student as she helped him translate the history of her world, now his. He learned willingly, almost wonderously as she taught him to herd and to reap and to suck gently at the folds of her wet flesh until she whimpered and sighed his name, "Danyel." She gave him a father and brother and a hope of children and *family* that he'd never had before.

Sometimes he thinks he can still taste her in his mouth, something like persimmons, only sweeter, deeper, darker.

Jack, though. Jack smells like winter and snow, nothing of the desert in him. His kisses are only sweet when he's half asleep. But he's taught Daniel, too, taught him to hold a gun and to fight to win and to keep on standing when you want nothing more than to fall down.

To fall down when you finally have to, and believe that someone might catch you.

Sha'ure was something close to a first love, and he wonders, at times, if Jack is a last love. He'd like to think that this has that potential. Because while Jack brings no fathers and no brothers and has long since buried a son, he still gives Daniel a hope of family.

It's not the same as with Sha'ure, certainly; they're both older and wiser, more cautious and more bittersweet ... but it's just as real, just as necessary. Sometimes, at work, he can taste Jack on his tongue, salty and sharp and better than any memory.

The hand on his thigh tightens slightly, then drifts up to tangle in his pubic hair, the palm warm over his cock and balls. He turns and Jack's dark gaze is hooded and gleaming and watchful.

"You think pretty damn loud," Jack says after a bit, moving in closer, touching the corner of Daniel's mouth with a sleepy, soft kiss.

"Sha'ure," says Daniel, and this is the best thing of all, that he doesn't have to explain, he doesn't have to excuse. Jack's other arm snakes under him, rolls him until they are face to face and body to body and Jack kisses him again, still slow and sweet and with understanding.

In between kisses, Daniel sighs, says, "I'm glad you're here," and "I love you," and "you're the last, you know, I think you're the last," and Jack swallows all his words. Even when the sun rises and they are tangled and wet with sweat there is a silence all around them like a breath held.

Later, over breakfast, with carols on the kitchen radio Jack says, "I like being last." Just that and only that, until he leans the distance between them and kisses Daniel and he's awake and it's sweet and Daniel is in love for the last time, and it doesn't really hurt at all.

**end**


End file.
